


storms

by mornen



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Biting, Cunnilingus, Fingering, Hair Kink, Holding, Horror, Kissing, Mild Horror, Mild Kink, Nipple Biting, Oral Sex, Other, PWP, Picking Up, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Storms, Vaginal Fingering, Wind - Freeform, Wrist Biting, Wrist Kissing, body kissing, breast biting, i guess, leg kissing, light biting, nipple pulling, probably, they're both nonbinary you can't change my mind, throwing down, wrist kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-13 11:22:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28902576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mornen/pseuds/mornen
Summary: Celebrían holds onto him. Elrond holds her tightly. He presses his face against her shoulder, against her hair. Stars glimmer about his head. He kisses her face, her lips. She kisses him, holds onto him. He pulls her into his arms again, off the bed, just held against his chest and kisses her. His lashes brush her cheek.
Relationships: Celebrían/Elrond Peredhel
Kudos: 16





	storms

Celebrían wakes to the wind. It’s strong enough that it sounds like it could take the house down, maybe even the mountains. Elrond is already awake. He sits, staring out the window. The curtains are open. She wishes they were drawn. There’s something in the wind she doesn’t want to see. There are shadows stretched out from the window – long and bent – on the floor, though there is no light outside. 

‘Elrond,’ she says, and he shuts the curtains. 

He lies down beside her, turned on his side and runs his hand over her arm. 

‘What was it?’ she says. 

‘Something from the mountains,’ he answers. ‘It’s only curious. It will pass before the night ends.’ 

Celebrían finds his hand beneath the blankets. She traces her finger over the curve of his palm, watching his face. He stares back at her. His hand slips from her arm and traces over the curve of her breast. 

‘Are you frightened?’ he asks as if he doesn’t know the answer. He runs his hand up her chest to her shoulder and then down her arm to her hand, resting still over the white and gold blanket – a gift from her parents. 

‘No,’ she says, very quietly because she is Galadriel’s daughter and it’s easier somehow to say then yes. Or maybe it’s true that she isn’t. She’s seen many strange things and many buildings fall. ‘I thought you needed to sleep.’

‘I can’t now.’ Elrond trails his fingers over her cheek. The stars about his head glimmer in the dim room. The wind shakes the house. It shakes the bed. He looks over his shoulder at the window. 

Still there are shadows on the floor, fainter now, but not gone. 

‘Do you think,’ she says. ‘It is lonely?’ And now she knows she is not afraid. She watches the shadows until they slip away, lost in the night. 

‘It will come again,’ Elrond answers. ‘It always does.’ He kisses her hair, just above her ear. He trails his fingers slowly over her arm, over her hand. He lifts her hand and kisses her wrist. 

Beneath the howl of the wind Celebrían can hear someone singing, but the wind is too loud for her to name the singer. She sits up and pulls the strap of her nightgown back onto her shoulder. 

Elrond does not sit. His head is near her leg. Now he runs his fingers over her thigh, over her nightgown. The satin weave of it is tight, and it slips easily over her skin. He kisses her uncovered skin, the warmth of her leg. He slides the hem of her skirt higher up her legs and kisses her hip on the sharpness of the bone, and then just beneath it. 

Celebrían slips a bit higher against the pillows, the wooden headboard she made herself, carved with lilies, with leaves, with nightingales. Elrond kisses her stomach beneath her navel. Her gown is pressed up to her waist. 

Elrond draw her towards him suddenly, and she slips down from against the headboard and falls sideways over the bed. He pulls her around onto her back again and lifts her leg to kiss it, press kisses across her shin and up her knee and onto the inside of her thigh. Then softly between her legs. Then against her leg again. 

The bed shakes with the wind. Elrond runs his hand over her stomach, over her legs, over her breasts. He holds her hair. He lets go. He holds her hand and skims his thumb over her knuckles, her palm, her wrist. 

He holds his hand gently over her leg, making a small circle against her skin. He takes her hand and kisses her wrist again, many times, all one after the other. His teeth brush against her wrist and he bites lightly down. His eyes are lowered when she looks down at him. He bites a bit harder, the skin just on the side of her wrist. It leaves small indents from his teeth, and she touches the marks when he goes back down on her. The indents remain, but the pain becomes warmth. 

He lifts her by the hip. He is strong. She takes hold of the sheet to hold herself in place. He is so warm on her. His fingers are strong and gentle. His hair brushes like silk against her leg. His lashes brush her stomach when he kisses it again. 

‘Elrond,’ she murmurs, but she doesn’t know if he hears her over the wind. All sound is lost beneath its cries. 

He slides his arm suddenly beneath her and lifts her up, in one sweep, and pulls apart the laces of her nightgown, where it ties up one side, and takes it off her. 

The room felt a bit cold when she first woke, but it is warm now. She feels her heart beating in her chest, in her wrist, in her abdomen. Her hair is over her face. He pushes it back, off her face, off her chest. He scoops her up, off the bed, into the air, in his arms. He cradles her there, and it’s very dark beneath the curtain of his hair, against his bare chest. He tilts her down, but his hair is still a curtain. It is long and all loose. 

He lifts her up again and throws her down onto the bed hard enough that she bounces. She laughs, and he presses her down and kisses her neck. He bites her gently on her shoulder. He kisses her collarbones, the hollow of her throat. His kisses are warm, his lips are full and soft. He finds her nipple with his mouth and sucks on it. He takes more of her breast into his mouth and twirls his tongue about her nipple before he bites it, just hard enough to make her gasp. The other nipple he squeezes, this time hard enough to make her suck her breath in. He releases the pressure and then squeezes again. 

‘Elrond,’ she says. She buries her hand in his hair. 

He sucks on her breast. He cradles her with one arm. He slides just one finger between her legs, and she spreads them again. He draws the finger against her and then up and circles it around her clit. 

The bed trembles beneath them. The wind is singing. She tilts her head back. The curtains have parted of their own will. The window is dark. There is nothing outside but darkness. She cannot make out the shape of the trees she hears. She cannot see the sky or make out where the sky would meet the earth. 

Elrond keeps fingering her. He presses down more firmly now, and she rocks up against his hand. The darkness outside sparkles with stars for a moment, small ones, little specks of silver. She comes with a small orgasm, shivering slightly. She feels the pulse of it five times. She takes a breath, and he throws her down again. Her hair falls over her face, and she lets it stay as he replaces the finger on her clit with his tongue and slides two fingers into her, curving them against her, in rhythm with her breath. 

He pushes one finger deeper into her and then draws it quickly into a curve, pressing against the spot inside of her with a faster rhythm that she leans up into, then falls away from, suddenly feeling weak, focusing all her energy on the sensations of his mouth on her and finger inside her until she comes again gasping out, ‘Elrond!’ and sitting up with the sudden jerk of her muscles and then falling back again. The stars are brighter now, and they dance in her hair and in his. 

‘Celebrían,’ Elrond whispers. He kisses her hip. ‘How I love you.’ 

His fingers brush over her body again, and he kisses each spot that he touches after. 

She holds onto him. He holds her tightly. He presses his face against her shoulder, against her hair. Stars glimmer about his head. He kisses her face, her lips. She kisses him, holds onto him. He pulls her into his arms again, off the bed, just held against his chest and kisses her. His lashes brush her cheek. 

‘I love you,’ he says.

Outside, it is dark. The wind shakes the house. Long shadows creep across the floor.


End file.
